


the first day of school

by therestlessbrook



Series: Carrying Verse [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Day of School, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22822621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therestlessbrook/pseuds/therestlessbrook
Summary: The first morning of kindergarten, Frank wakes with his daughter on his stomach.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Karen Page
Series: Carrying Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1532621
Comments: 20
Kudos: 191





	the first day of school

The first morning of kindergarten, Frank wakes with his daughter on his stomach.

All of the breath _oompfs_ out of him in a rush when her knees hit his sternum. She’s small for her age, but he’s not expecting Ava to just launch herself atop him. He reaches for her, wide awake in an instant, pulling her close. Karen is rousing beside him, blinking the sleep from her eyes. “Wasrong?” she says, the syllables all jumbled up.

“It’s school,” says Ava happily. “School, school, school!”

Frank glances at the alarm clock. “It’s five in the morning,” he says. His voice is a little hoarse and he reaches for the glass of water he keeps by the bedside. A sip, and he sounds more human. “Sweetheart, it’s too early for school yet.”

Ava frowns at him. “I grabbed my backpack. And did my hair.”

Sure enough, her sparkly green backpack is on the floor beside the bed and her hair has been pulled into what looks like a knot. Frank winces at the thought of untangling that.

“School’s not open yet, Ava,” says Karen. “Go back to bed.”

“No.” Ava bounces on the bed between them. “I want to be early.”

“The building will be locked,” Frank tells her. “We have to get there with the other kids.”

Ava juts her lower lip out at him in a frown. “Why?”

Karen clops back onto her side, rolling so that she faces the wall. “Because the sun’s still asleep,” Karen groans. “And so are we.”

“You’re not asleep now,” Ava says.

“I will be in a moment,” Karen murmurs, clearly halfway there.

Ava bounces on the bed. She’s an early riser. Always has been, since she was a baby and demanding to be fed at three in the morning. Maybe she’ll sleep in later when she’s older.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Frank says, rising from the bed. He grabs the flannel robe hanging over the back of the desk chair and pulls it on. “Let’s get out of here so your mom can sleep.”

“School?” asks Ava hopefully.

“Breakfast,” he replies, and carries her out of the bedroom. He shuts the bedroom door quietly behind him; Karen had a rather late night with a deadline, and she needs the sleep more than he does.

Ava sits on a stool at the small kitchen island and watches as he makes pancakes. She helps stir the batter a little, and he lets her carefully plop a spoonful onto the hot pan. She delights in the way it sizzles up, but she’s still too young to do the cooking. “In a few years,” he tells her, when she looks crestfallen. “It’s still too hot for you, sweetheart. You could burn yourself.”

“But you’re here,” she says, as if that’s safety enough.

This is the part that never fails to humble him; he’d forgotten what it was like to have someone who trusted him so implicitly. Karen trusts him, of course, but she understands that the world is a dangerous place. There are things he cannot overcome, no matter how much he tries. But for Ava, she still thinks of him as invincible.

He wishes he were.

He loves Ava fiercely. She’s bright and stubborn and a little shy with strangers. There’s a quiet intensity to her when she’s set to a task that reminds Frank a little too much of himself. The loss of his first family still aches; it won’t ever stop, he knows that. Lisa and Frankie’s losses aren’t something that can be soothed with the existence of another kid. But nor is Ava a bandage or a balm or any other bullshit way to say she’s second best. She’s his daughter and he would burn this fucking world to the ground to keep her safe.

When they’re finished eating pancakes, he coaxes her into the living room and puts on an early morning cartoon to distract her while she sits between his knees and he tries to untangle the mess she made of her hair. She winces a few times and he murmurs, “Sorry, sweetheart,” and feels like a generally shitty person until it’s done. Then he smooths the hair with a brush. Hers is brown, but a lighter shade than his. The texture, though, that’s all Karen’s. It’s fine, with a tendency to break if not handled carefully. He braids the hair back, then ties it off. Ava feels at the braid, then nods in satisfaction. “Thanks, Daddy.”

They watch cartoons for about half an hour before Karen emerges from the bedroom. She flops onto the couch beside them, looking as though she could use another hour of sleep.

Ava scrambles into Karen’s lap and buries her face in Karen’s shoulder. “Hey, sweetie,” Karen murmurs, rubbing Ava’s back. “You ready for school?”

“Is it time?” Ava asks excitedly.

“It’s six now,” Karen murmurs. “So… not quite.” She looks over Ava’s head. “You want the first shower?”

Frank runs a hand through his hair. “Probably need one, yeah. There’s pancakes in the oven for you,” he tells her, rising from the couch.

“I helped make them,” says Ava. “But Daddy says the stove is too hot.”

“Good for both of you,” Karen says, tugging gently on Ava’s braid. “You can set stuff on fire when you’re older.”

Karen is just as protective of Ava as he is—albeit, in different ways. She seems more determined to make sure that Ava has a stable home life: routines and security. Probably because that’s something that fell apart in Karen’s own childhood, Frank thinks, feeling a pang for that kid that Karen would have been. Frank’s own parents might have been older, but they made no secret of the fact they adored their son. They supported him, even when he was being an asshole, and he knows he owes his own father for being able to parent with any amount of skill.

Once everyone is showered and dressed, it’s finally around seven. Frank goes out to warm up the car while Karen helps Ava with her shoes. They kept the one they drove cross country, because Ava’s carseat fits in the back and it’s a decent vehicle. But Frank also purchased a used truck a few years back, because he needs it for some of his jobs. He keeps it parked at the curb while the car sits in the driveway. Karen gets Ava situated in her seat, fastening the straps with ease, then she slides into the passenger seat. “Ready?” she says.

“Yeah.” Frank puts the car in reverse, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the way is clear. Ava looks excited, at least. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The drive to the school feels all too short.

Ava sits in her carseat, bouncing up and down with excitement. Karen keeps looking at her, smiling a little. At least one of them is pleased. Frank’s fingers are tight on the steering wheel. He’s always been a good driver, but when Ava’s in the backseat, his vigilance is razor-sharp. Ava asks about the school and Karen fields the answers as best she can.

Karen knows that he’s as uneasy about this change as she is—but he’s keeping quiet about it.

The thing is, Ava hasn’t really been away from home for much time. There isn’t a preschool nearby, but Tammy runs a play group out of her house so it’s not like Ava has been completely isolated. But now Ava will be out of the house regularly, out of Frank and Karen’s reach. And as much as Karen wants to be fine with that, some part of her is wracked with nerves. There’s the usual fears—if Ava will find friends, if the teacher will be good—and then the ones Karen knows are singular to their household—if one of their enemies finds them, and finds Ava, neither Karen nor Frank will be there to defend her.

There aren’t as many enemies these days—but they still exist. Karen and Frank have gone to great lengths to keep their location and identities secret. Only a handful of people know their address: Curtis, Foggy, Matt, David, and Dinah. But Karen has nightmares of Vanessa Fisk using her connections to find them. Or maybe one of the remnants of the gangs that Frank hunted could catch on. Or—

Karen keeps her eyes forward. She won’t worry her daughter.

But Frank’s right hand slips from the steering wheel and finds hers. His fingers are broad and warm, and she looks at him as he squeezes her fingers. His gaze never wavers from the road, but somehow he knew where her thoughts went. They’ve always been well-attuned to one another, and after years of marriage, their connection has only strengthened.

His thumb strokes the delicate band around her ring finger. It’s silver, not gold, at her request. A few tiny diamonds make the ring sparkle in the sunlight. It’s simple and small, but it’s hers. And besides, she would rather their money be spent on more important things—like their daughter. And a decent laptop.

When they arrive, Karen gets Ava out of her carseat while Frank retrieves her brand new backpack, filled with everything the school recommended—including a few extra bird stickers that Ava coveted. Together, they walk into the school. As they get closer, Ava’s excited chatter gives way to nerves.

Frank is holding Ava’s hand. She looks like she wants to cling to his leg, but is settling for the hand. Her backpack is held in his other hand. Karen is the first one through the door, smiling at the teacher. She’s a middle-aged woman, with silver-laced dark hair and kind eyes. “Hello, there,” she says warmly. She greets Ava directly, which Karen appreciates. “I’m Ms. Duncan. What’s your name?”

Ava mumbles something that sounds like “Avaway.”

“Ava Conway,” says Ms. Duncan, thankfully correctly guessing the name. “Well, let’s get your name tag! I’ve printed your name on it and you can decorate it with glitter or markers. How does that sound?”

At the prospect of glitter, Ava perks up a little. “Really?”

“Come on,” says Ms. Duncan. “How about you say bye to your mom and dad, and we’ll get you set up at this table with the others?”

Ava looks up at Frank with wide eyes. He kneels beside her. “We’re going to pick you up in a few hours. You have fun, okay? And do what your teacher says.”

“You can’t stay?” says Ava, glancing between Frank and Karen.

Karen squats beside her daughter. “We already went to school, hun. And now, it’s your turn. You’re going to have so much with new friends and coloring and recess. They’ve got swings here, you know that?”

Ava looks a little more hopeful about it all. But she still glances toward Frank, as if making sure that he thinks this is all right.

“You have fun with the other kids,” he tells her. “And do what your teacher says. We’ll pick you up in a few hours.”

Ava nods bravely. “Okay.”

“Attagirl,” Frank murmurs. He kisses Ava’s hair, then gives her a little nudge toward the table in question.

Ava walks to the table with the other kids. Frank hangs her backpack on a hook along the wall, and then he reaches for Karen like he needs to hold onto something. Karen knows how he feels; she clings to his hand hard. Ava pulls out one of the tiny chairs and sits down, glancing at the other kids. One of them offers her a marker. She takes it.

“You two can pick her up around noon,” says Ms. Duncan, in a gentle dismissal. “It’s a half day, today, remember?”

Karen and Frank back out of the room together, and when they’re in the hallway, Karen feels more than a little bereft. A broken little breath shudders out of Karen, and the edges of her eyes are damp.

“She’s going to be fine,” Frank says, pulling Karen closer.

Karen lets out a watery laugh. “I thought I wasn’t going to get all emotional about this. But…”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “She’ll have fun, though. She likes playing with Tammy’s kids.”

“She does,” Karen agrees. She has worried a little about Ava learning to share and be sociable, not having any siblings. But with her and Tammy trading off shifts watching each others’ kids, sometimes it feels like Ava had three adopted siblings in addition to her own family. “It’s just—she’s growing up.”

“She is,” he says. And while he sounds grateful, every word is touched with an old grief. Karen kisses the corner of his mouth, then steps back.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” she murmurs. “Then we can figure out what to do until noon.”

He nods.

Karen finds a restroom down the hall. The sinks are tiny and low, and Karen glances in the mirror as she presses a damp paper towel to the corners of her eyes. She looks a little older these days—her hair is long and blonde but she has lines at the corners of her eyes. She doesn’t mind them, but it’s still a shock to look into a mirror and see someone who isn’t thirty anymore.

With a sigh, Karen pushes open the restroom door and looks around for Frank.

Frank is—besieged. That’s the only word for it. He literally has his back to the wall—well, lockers—while three women are clustered around him. And he looks more panicked than when facing armed mobsters. His face may be set in neutral lines, but Karen knows that taut energy in his shoulders, sees the nervous twitch of his hands.

“—So nice to see a dad involved,” says one of the women, smiling at Frank as if he were a chocolate-covered ice cream cone.

And hey, Karen gets it. Frank is a very attractive man, and while his beard is starting to gray, it only makes him look more experienced.

“Which one is yours?” asks another woman.

“Do you live nearby?”

“We have a carpool set up and if you want to help out with it—”

“Karen,” says Frank, seeing her. He says her name with the kind of relief Karen could imagine sailors using when they spotted land. He holds out a hand and she takes it. “These are Julia, Barb, and Mia. Also dropping their kids off at kindergarten today. And this is my wife, Karen.”

The expressions range from disappointed—that would be blond middle aged one, Barb—to even more intrigued—the twenty-something Mia.

“Nice to meet you,” Karen says. “What was this about a carpool?”

They manage to escape the throng after about five minutes of chatter. Once they’re back in the truck, Frank reaches for Karen and pulls her into a tight hug. Karen says, “Is this a ‘our kid is in school and I’m having a moment’ kind of hug or a ‘thank you from saving me from carnivorous soccer moms’ hug?”

“Both,” he murmurs against her ear. She hugs him back, and he’s solid and warm and so very familiar. Home.

“Are we going to sit in the parking lot for the next three hours just in case something happens?” she murmurs.

“I thought we’d grab coffee and bagels first,” he replies.

“Sounds like a plan,” she says. She kisses his cheek, and they walk out together.


End file.
